


Back Again

by Beserk



Category: Jesus Christ Superstar - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23837752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beserk/pseuds/Beserk
Summary: 'I could send you down there again. You miss it.'The voice in his head is warm, gentle. But he knows it's a mirage. His Father is many things, but gentle is not one of them. He's cruel and kind, loving and hateful, a teacher and destroyer. But not gentle. Never gentle. Why should he be, when the world he created is not? Gentleness comes from humans, and humans alone."I don't want to go back," Jesus replies. Sometimes he can see his Father, from the corner of his eyes. Sometimes he can hear his true voice. He could have more, if he were to give up on his humanity fully. Become like the angels. If he does that, he'll be giving up the human parts of himself.He'll be giving up the nearly-nonexistent chance he has of ever having his reunion.
Relationships: Jesus Christ & Judas Iscariot, Jesus Christ/Judas Iscariot
Comments: 20
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

_I could send you down there again._

He shakes his head, looking at the world of men underneath him. He sees a young girl, barely older than he was when he argued with the rabbis in the temple, laughing and crying at the same time while her father shows her pictures of a beloved long-dead pet rabbit. The rabbit sits by his side, waiting for the girl to come to him. He never moves from that spot. Not ever, not once.

Jesus joins him sometimes. He joins all those that are waiting-he has the time, can be in so many places at once. He knows what it's like to wait, he knows how lonely it can get. And he's jealous, because no matter how hard the waiting can get, all these creatures know that in the end they will be reunited with those they love.

He doesn't have that certainty. He barely has hope.

_You miss it._

The voice in his head is warm, gentle. But he knows it's a mirage. His Father is many things, but gentle is not one of them. He's cruel and kind, loving and hateful, a teacher and destroyer. But not gentle. Never gentle. Why should he be, when the world he created is not? Gentleness comes from humans, and humans alone.

"I don't want to go back," Jesus replies. Sometimes he can see his Father, from the corner of his eyes. Sometimes he can hear his true voice. Only Elijah and Moses ever had more. _He_ could have more, if he were to give up on his humanity fully. Become like the angels. Michael and Rafael and the rest of them. If he does that, he'll be giving up the human parts of himself.

He'll be giving up the nearly-nonexistent chance he has of ever having that reunion.

"There's nothing down there for me," He adds, and the rabbit shuffles a bit. The girl is hugging her new pet, a cat, but there's room enough in her heart to love them both. The human heart is large enough to love so much.

He loves them all, every single human, every single creature. Loves them with the fervor of a mother with her children. Sometimes he wonders if it's wrong of him, that despite that there is still one he loves more. But even God has his favorites among the humans-why shouldn't he?

Hearing his thoughts, the voice in his head sighs deeply, _you can._

Jesus hears the part that he doesn't add-but does it have to be _him_? Must it be _Judas_?

"Why do you want me to go back?" He demands. "Is there another job you have for me, down there?"

_No. What has happened has happened. What they did with your teaching is now on their conscience._

He grimaces. They have done so much good-and so much bad. So much that makes him want to scream in horror.

"Then why?"

_You have watched for so long. You deserve to be a part of it once more. Not as my son, this time._

Jesus huddles into himself, "No crucifixion?"

_No mission. Life._

Life. The great gift of humanity. Life that starts and ends, and doesn’t go on and on forever. He should have had that, that peace and calm. He doesn't, because he's missing something.

"It won't work," Jesus warns. "You know it won't. I'll live my life and come back here and be like this. You know that."

A pause, a pregnant silence between the two of them, and then the voice says, _I know._

Jesus closes his eyes, trying to stop himself from hoping, but asking anyways, "Will you…will you give him back to me?"

A pause.

_Yes. He has suffered enough._

Jesus wants to say that he never should have suffered at all, not for one moment. That his actions had been done out of love, a mistake, that he didn't know what he was doing and never would have acted if he had. But he knows it's pointless. He's railed at his Father for that so many times, it's never made any difference. And besides, it doesn’t matter anymore. He'll have him back.

And Jesus bursts into tears.

*

He's born the second child and first son of a family living in the city of New York. His father is called Howie, his mother Rebecca. He's got an older sister, born four years before him, called Mara. 

They call him David at birth, which suits him just fine. He remembers how they called him King of the Jews and it amuses him, in a dry, bitter sort of why, to be named for the greatest king the Jews ever had.

He's born with all the memories of his life, from birth to death to waking up again. And he knows why he's here, that his father sent him. But he doesn't remember anything of Heaven. The human mind can't comprehend that sort of thing, or it will go mad. He's glad for it, glad that the dreams are not returning, those dreams he had from the moment of his birth where he saw things, gained knowledge no child should be burdened with. He doesn't have those now. It seems his Father kept his word-he is no longer the Son of God.

His new family is Jewish, and he's born on the eve of the first night of Hanukah. When he's brought home two nights later, he watches from the safety of his mother's arms as his father helps his sister light the menorah. It made him miss his father. Not the one in the sky. Joseph, who taught him carpenting, who held him when he slept. He knows that he's seen his father in Heaven, but he doesn't remember it, and suddenly the ache is so strong in him he just wants to go back.

Except he doesn’t, not truly.

*

His sister reminds him a bit of Mary Magdalene. She has the same inner kindness, the same reverence for life. She comes to his crib and hands him toys, lets him hold her finger in his small hand. Her smile, though, reminds him of a different Mary. His mother. So happy, so loving towards him. Mara will make a wonderful woman, when she grows.

When he starts crawling and walking and his world expands, Jesus is sent to kindergarten while his mother returns to her work. This is another thing he didn't have, in his first life, the ability to interact with children his age. Well, his physical age. He enjoys it, still. Their soft hands around him, treating him like another one of them.

School is even more exciting. All these new things to learn. Once again, he must have seen all these things in Heaven, but he doesn't remember. Computers are new to him, as are all those wonderful new books. Jesus can't read all the books he'd like, without letting it clear to those around him he's more aware then other children.

Jesus's father likes to read those books out loud to his mother while the family sits in the living room, and Jesus can sit there, pretending to play his games or watch Mara with hers but really listening intently. His favorite book so far is _The Martian_. He loves hearing tales of humans working together.

Making the world better as they go.

The first eight years of this new life go like this, slipping by in a haze of pleasure and love. He sees the pain of humans, but as a child, he's protected from the worst of it. His days are filled of play and learning, and there's so much for him to learn of this new world. In the evening, when he's put to bed, he snuggles deep into the covers and dreams of Judas.

But when he's eight, his sister dies.

It's a bright day in the middle of the summer. Their father has to work, so his mother and grandmother-his mother's mother-takes him and Mara to the zoo. They go around, seeing all the animals, until Jesus's small body has had enough, and the family sits down to have lunch.

Mara finishes eating first, and she swings her legs back and forth, and then tugs at their mother's arm, "Mommy, can I go back to the lions?"

The lions are close by, just around the corner, so Jesus is not surprised when their mother nods her agreement, "If you want, sweetheart."

"Can Davey come with me?" That's Mara. She always wants someone to look after.

"Your brother isn’t done eating," His mother replies. "We'll be there in a few minutes."

He regrets not going with her afterwards, so much.

When they get up and go to the lion encloser, they don’t find the young girl. Calling out gives in to screaming, to getting the zoo guards, to getting the police. It reminds him of _chad gadya_ : this hope ate that hope ate that one afterwards _._ At some point Jesus tries joining in the search, but he's caught by his frantic mother and kept in place.

The next few days go by in a blur. Jesus keeps close to his parents, knowing they need him as much as he needs them. There's something in him that knows that he won't get his sister back. That after all these days, the chances that she'll be found alive are rather small.

Her body is discovered a week and a half after her disappearance. Jesus manages to eavesdrop in a few conversations between the police and his parents, and he learns that she'd been killed a few hours after she was taken, probably by accident, before anything could have happened to her. He closes his eyes, wanting to thank God for small miracles-but he knows better. God had no hand in this. This was the realm of men.

During the _shiva_ , when the family sits for the seven days of mourning, people come up to him and say, _we're sorry for your loss_. They bring food and help around the house, and his grandmother reads him some books so his father doesn’t have to. He looks at all these people, each trying to help, a community coming together, and tries to convince himself it evens out the horror inflicted on his sister. He can't quite get there.

Jesus watches silently as his family comes apart. He tries to help, tries to explain that they will see Mara again, that she's watching over them, that she wouldn't want them in such pain. But this just makes his mother cry harder and his father leave in a rage. They have no belief in God, and he doesn't expect them to. Why should they, when they have never seen God? When He is as far away as a dream you've forgotten you even had?

He's not sure himself, how much he believes. How much he _knows_ , that's one issue. But how much he _believes_ -well.

*

No one names their son Judas anymore. He knows why, and it breaks his heart. The idea that Judas, his Judas, his beautiful and loyal and loving Judas is synonymous with betrayal makes him want to curl into himself and cry.

He has a different name now, everyone but himself calls him David. But the idea that he will see Judas again, and not be able to call him that…he's not sure he can handle it. Jesus finds it very hard to believe that there is ever a world, ever a time, that he will look at his friend's face, call, _Judas_ , and not be answered immediately.

_Judas._

_Yes, my Lord?_

_Judas!_

_It’s all right, I'm right here._

_Judas…_

_It's me, I'm the one that betrays you._

He knows he called to him in Heaven, over and over again, and wasn't answered. But that was because Judas couldn't hear.

*

He used to say to himself, _I am Jesus, son of Mary and Joseph_ , to remind himself that he was only a man. A man with a purpose, a man doomed. But still just a man.

And then he'd died and came back and was Jesus the Son of God to everyone. And the one person who should have been there, should have grabbed him and yelled, _you are Jesus, son of Mary and Joseph_ , wasn't there anymore. Because he was dangling from a tree by the time Jesus got to him.

So he was Jesus Son of God until he died again.

Now he tells himself _, I am Jesus_. He doesn't need reminding of whose son he is, it's all too clear. There is no question, no wondering. He looks at the man putting him to sleep at night and never has to remind himself: this is my father.

He tells himself _, I am Jesus, brother of Mara_ , because even though he isn’t afraid of forgetting, it comforts him to say it. Even to himself, a statement of belonging. He is Jesus, he belongs to Mara.

It's the same reason he tells himself, _I am Jesus, lover of Judas_.

*

His family starts to pull itself back into place. It's beautiful to watch, the way his parents, who've been flinching from one another for years, began returning to lean on the other when the pain gets too hard. He watches as his father holds his mother and his mother hushes his father at night.

Jesus thinks of his first mother, left alone in the world after his death. His father Joseph had already been taken away years earlier, and then her son as well. She'd known that was what would happen, had agreed to it when the angel had come to her. It hurts, knowing that. That she agreed to birth him knowing he will live a short life, die in such horrendous pain. But now he wonders if she also knew he would be given this second chance, this new life.

He wants to believe that she did. Even though he knew it had been the right thing to do, birth him to save humanity and allow them their chance to return to Heaven even if there was no hope for him.

Still. He can't stop the anger inside of him. He'd cried for her, cried like a child when they nailed him to the cross. He'd just wanted his mother. She hadn’t come. She couldn’t.

*

They go to Israel when he's thirteen, to celebrate his _Bar Mitzvah_. It's odd, to be there. They go to Bethlehem on his request, and he sees the land he was born in. It looks nothing like what he remembers, of course, but there's still something in the air that reminds him of his father's strong arms hoisting him up, his mother's kisses. He's probably imagining it, but it still makes him want to cry.

Jerusalem _does_ make him cry. He walks down _Via Delarosa_ , remembering the pain and humiliation, and doesn’t try to stop the tears from pouring down his cheeks. His mother rushes to him, cupping his cheeks and asking what's wrong.

He tells her he's crying for Mara, and he is, in a way. He's crying for all the pain humans have ever inflicted on one another. The pain that had been inflicted on him, the pain inflicted on his sister. The pain inflicted on his love that forced him up that tree.

Jesus doesn't need to explain all that to his mother. Something in her eyes flicker, and he can tell she understands. Not fully, of course. But she understands that the pain is greater than the pain that comes from a single wound to the heart. She holds him close and hushes him.

*

He starts to wonder, when he's a teenager and his body is flooded with hormones, what it will be like when he sees Judas again. If Judas will know him, if he'll cry. If he'll be angry.

Probably. Judas always hid everything behind anger. His jealousy of Mary, his fear that he wasn't _good_ enough, that he wasn't _doing_ enough. Jesus hadn't realized at the time, not as much as he should have. He never even considered Mary to be in competition with Judas, never considered her presence to be any threat to their relationship. The idea had been so very foreign to him that he hadn't even considered the possibility that it wasn't all that foreign to Judas. That perhaps Judas _was_ afraid of her.

Judas, who never thought he deserved anything. Who gave every piece of himself away to help others, because he didn't think he was worthy of life otherwise. Judas, who'd taken money to help the needy and berated Jesus for using oil when there were others that needed it more. Jesus had never considered that Judas had looked at their own relationship the same way.

Why should he keep Jesus, when Mary needed him as well? But he had, and that must have tormented him so. The false idea stuck in his head that he was selfish, wrong to love someone who could love someone else.

It had probably never occurred to him that Jesus _couldn't_ love someone else, and besides, Judas needed him more then Mary. That not everything was a commodity to be traded. And if it was-which it wasn't-that he was worthy of some of it as well.

Jesus wonders what it would feel like if Judas didn't know him at first. If he had to build their love from scratch. He hopes that's the case, then he can fix all the mistakes he made.

He wonders if Judas will be different. He himself feels different already.

*

When he's fifteen, he gets his first chance to lose his virginity. He's invited to a party at the house of one of his schoolfriends when said friend's parents are away. He tells his parents that they're going to have a sleepover. His mother nods in agreement, busy with her work, but his father takes him to the side.

"I know it's going to be a party," His father says, and then grins when Jesus's eyes widen. "Come on, give me a little credit. You think I never partied when I was your age?"

This is, Jesus realizes with a start, the first time he's had this type of conversation with any of his fathers. The conversation when the father looks down at his son and acknowledges that he is growing, and will be a man soon. That they will be closer to equals.

"Just make sure you don't drink more than you can handle, David," His father says, and then hands him a pack of condoms. "And this is for…well. Just so you're ready."

The party is loud and happy, and Jesus finds himself sitting next to a classmate of his called Agatha. Agatha shuffles close to him, and he immediately knows what she wants.

It's as if time stops for him, and he looks at the frozen eyes of the girl by his side. Her eyes are a dark brown, like chocolate, like Judas's.

Judas had been his first, and his last. It hadn't been the same for his love, he knew. Judas had slept with many people before joining Jesus's mission, men and women both. But not one afterwards.

It had shocked Jesus, when he learned that, and for a little while he had had to force himself to stop feeling a bitter jealousy. Judas was not his property, he did not belong to him and owed him nothing. And besides, it had happened before they had met. Judas had not slept with anyone in the year they travelled together, before Jesus had kissed him for the first time.

Still, he had so wanted to have been Judas's first. Not just because Judas was his first and a silly little part of himself thought their love meant more that way, but because he hadn't known what he was doing that first time. For the first time, he'd been the student and Judas had been the teacher. It had been frightening, he hadn't wanted Judas to feel that he couldn't pull his weight. Who would want a lover who fumbled like a scared child?

That first night had put all other nights in Jesus's life to shame. Just the thought of it made him warm. Nothing before that had ever felt so real, and he'd never seen Judas look so very peaceful as he had that night.

Jesus looks at the girl in front of him. It wouldn't be right, to give her what she wants. His heart isn't his to give, it belongs to another. Why should his body be any different?

*

"You need to start thinking about graduation," His mother says to him, when he's seventeen. They've gone together to Mara's grave to put stones there. Flowers, too, but Jesus prefers the stones. Stones stay longer, they have a weight to them. When he looks at the white grave, with the name of his sister in English and Hebrew, he can see all the stones he's ever put. Here's the large brown one from when he was nine, here's the beautiful white one he found on a trip to Florida. 

Jesus hopes Mara enjoys the stones, but he knows they don't matter to her anymore. She is beyond such things.

"About what you want to do afterwards," His mother adds.

He shakes his head, unsure of what to say to that. He doesn't know what he wants out of life, other then Judas. His whole former life was geared towards a singular goal, he's unsure of how to choose for himself. From so many different options.

"You can take a gap year, you don’t have to start studying right away."

Jesus bites his lips, "Can I travel?"

"Of course, honey," That makes his mother smile. She seems to like the idea. "Where would you like to go?"

He wants to say Israel, but he also doesn't think he could handle going back there. He wonders where Judas would be. That is where he wants to go. Judas is somewhere out there, but he has not guarantees that he will be able to find him.

Jesus can't think of anything worse than spending this lifetime searching for his love, only to die of old age having never found him.

"I suppose I'll go to Europe."

*

He enjoys Europe quite a bit. France's food is wonderful, the Alps are stunning, England is fun. He goes to the Vatican and wants to throw up when he sees all that _wealth._

There are new friends to be made, his fellow travelers as well as locales in every place he goes. He sees the beauty of humans, and the ugliness in them and it's stunning to watch.

But it's not what he wants, _they're_ not what he wants. When he's approached by girls and boys who want to take him to bed (well, mattress or sleeping bags, usually. Travelling teens and all), he gently and carefully denies them.

He's a bit surprised by how often these things happen. When he points that out to one of his friends, said friend laughs fondly and ruffles his hair, "That would be because you're hot, dumbass."

Is he?

He looks the same as he had in his first life. Judas called him beautiful, but he'd always assumed the attraction others felt towards him was only because…. well, of who and what he was.

It seems that some of it came from something else.

*

He decides a few months into his trip what he wants to do with the rest of his life. He's going to go back to America and study sculpting. He wants to make art, he misses carpenting. He doesn’t want to do anything dramatic; he just wants to create something beautiful.

He gets accepted to a few undergrad art programs, and decides to go to a university in Boston. It's not that he feels he needs to live far from his parents, but he wants to give himself a chance to build a life outside of their sphere of influence. He wants to see what he will become when left to his own devices.

The first few weeks of classes go by in a blur. He enjoys them, makes new friends and settles down into this new dorm. There are parties and more people to be gently denied and classes with more things to learn. The art history classes force him to stare at paintings of himself, and his Father, of Mary Magdalene and…. Judas.

It doesn't look at all like Judas, just as the rest of the paintings don't look at all like any of the people they proport to portray. It's not that he expects the painting to resemble anyone, but still. Seeing that painting of Judas sends shivers down his spine.

Judas hanging from the tree. That is what they choose to paint. Like Jesus himself is so often painted on the Cross. It hurts seeing himself, but seeing Judas is like being whipped again.

A month into the university year, his father calls him. Jesus is in the dorm room, doing some homework when the phone calls, and he pushes the papers away, more then happy to hear from his father.

"David? How are you?"

"Today is going well," Jesus replies, curling into a chair.

"Hmm," His father hums. They sit on the phone in silence for a few moments and then his father adds, "You sound a bit down."

"I'm all right."

"Yeah, you are," His father agrees. "But I don't remember the last time you sounded actually happy."

Jesus chews his lower lip, "How is Mom?"

He hears his father snort, "She's fine, son. Now tell me what's wrong with you."

Jesus's fingers trail over the wood of the table. For a moment, he feels a different wood, wood scratching over his skin as it tries to rip off his bones, gravity fighting with the nails. Blood trickling down his forehead from the crown they placed on his head, and why hadn't they listened when he told them that he didn't want to be king, that he wasn't king-

"David?" His father's voice is soft and warm, and Jesus clings to it, lets it comfort and console him. "Tell me what's wrong."

He chokes, "There's something missing."

Fingers trailing his skin, a laughing voice in his ear, a warm body in his arms, allowing itself to be held tightly by him. He wants Judas, he wants him so _much_.

"David, buddy…You're nineteen. Everyone is missing something at this point. And you have the rest of your life to find out what you need."

He knows what he needs, but the words do comfort him. Only nineteen, he has the rest of his life ahead of him to find Judas. To be whole again.

Jesus falls asleep that night with a smile on his face, hope burning bright in his chest again.

Later, he'll wonder if that was what did it. If the hope was so bright that Fate itself (or perhaps his Father), decided to intervene. Because the next day, it happens.

*

The next day, after class, Jesus and one of his new friends, a girl called Maggie (who somehow reminds him of Simon, with the same clever eyes and kindness and violence warring in her soul) go to Starbucks to get some coffee to help survive the next class. They stand in line behind a group of girls with colors in their hair, and Jesus and Maggie spend their time waiting quietly deciding which of the hair colors looks the best.

And then the jingle of the door opening catches Jesus's ear, and then he hears a sound that makes him freeze in place.

"I'm not saying that, dick, stop putting words in my fucking mouth. All I'm saying is that if you take Marx's side in this argument, you have to take into account-"

Maggie groans, drowning out the voice for a moment, and Jesus wants to scream, "Here he goes again."

 _Move_ , Jesus tells himself. _Turn around, now-_

The man isn't looking in his direction when Jesus turns. He's looking back at his friend, who's the one speaking now. But Jesus doesn’t need to see his face to know who it is. The voice is enough, and his body takes away any shred of doubt he may have had (not that he had).

He looks exactly the same. The same long and lean body, the same dark hair (it's cropped close to his head now, it used to be longer), the same ears the same way his hands wave in the air the same gentle wrists oh Lord it's him it's him it's-

"Judas," Jesus whispers. "Judas."

The man stops in the middle of a hand wave, and turns.

"Yeah?"

No matter what, no matter where they are, when Jesus calls his name, Judas answers.


	2. Chapter 2

Oh, God. Oh, God.

He's so beautiful Jesus wants to cry, has to stop himself from doing so. His brown eyes, his red lips. Judas. Judas. Judas. He wants to hold him, he wants to kiss him and keep him safe and away from the world.

"You know Judas?" Maggie asks, sounding confused.

"Nah, I don’t know this guy," Judas shrugs, and then raises an eyebrow. "Are you two going to order?"

"Oh, yeah, right," Maggie grabs Jesus's arm and pulls him away from Judas. And no, that's wrong. He doesn’t want to leave Judas, not again.

But Judas is looking at him with a little frown on his face, and _he doesn’t know him_. Jesus had thought that he wanted that, once, but he realizes now how foolish that was. It breaks his heart, seeing Judas's eyes staring at him with no recognition. And he knows it will look very odd, if he insists on continuing to stare at this man who does not know him. He's going to look mad, and if they're going to rebuild their love (and if it's up to him, they will) appearing mad is not a good way to start.

"David, come on," Maggie tugs at his arm, and he allows himself to be pulled towards the counter. It takes all the strength he has within him to turn away from Judas, but he manages to do it, somehow.

"How do you know Judas? He isn't taking any courses with us," Maggie asks as she and Jesus step out of the Starbucks.

Jesus is glad she's talking to him, even if it requires him to come up with some lie on the spot. He needs a distraction to stop himself form turning back and crashing into the Starbucks to find Judas to hold him in his arms.

(He'd probably be shoved away at the _very_ least.)

"Um, I think we met at a party," That's a good explanation, he can use it when he sees Judas again (which he will, he refuses to accept any other possibility), he can tell by the way Maggie nods and grins.

"Oh yeah, I bet he was standing on top of something or another and lecturing," Maggie waves her arms in a very good imitation of an overly excited Judas. "Was it about the dangers of Neo-Liberalism or how the Patriarchy is the root of all evil in our society?"

God Lord, he's truly the same, isn't he? Jesus feels a bit of bitterness flow in his soul. How can he be just the same and not know Jesus?

But that's of course incredibly selfish. The idea that Judas was _Judas_ because of him and only him. As if he hadn't had a life before they met, as if he'd been a blank slate for Jesus to write on.

"Neo-Liberalism," Jesus replies before Maggie can realize he's finding it hard to focus. "It was…very passionate."

That seems like a safe assumption for Jesus to make.

"Oh yeah, that's our Judas," Maggie snorts.

 _My_ Judas, Jesus's mind traitorously supplies in anger. He immediately pushes the thought away. 

"He's always very excited about these things. He volunteers in like five different organizations and goes to rallies and stuff."

Trying to help, giving his time and energy and _hope_. Jesus thinks of the oil anointing his skin, Mary's gentle fingers, Judas's fury at the waste. He hopes that Judas isn't the same way now, in this, that he's learned to allow himself to take pleasure in things.

But if judas is judas then he probably has not. Maybe this time, Jesus can help him learn.

When they reach their next class, Jesus asks, "So how do _you_ know him?"

"You know Lisa?"

"One of your roommates?"

"The same. She has classes with Judas. We also met at a party, one she organized."

Jesus silently makes a vow to himself to never ever miss any of the parties in Lisa and Maggie's place again.

*

That night, he dreams of the first time he kissed Judas. They had bene travelling back to the camp where the rest of the apostles had been waiting from a visit to a nearby town that had called on Jesus for help.

It was night, and Judas had built them a fire. He had been radiating contentment, both because of the dying child Jesus had healed a few hours earlier, but also because it was just the two of them. Because he didn't feel the need to fight with anyone for Jesus's attention.

Not that Jesus had realized at the time. He had been far too busy locked into his mind by his own struggles.

He kept looking at his beloved friend, his darling Judas, and tried to remind himself that he could not have him. That he was going to die soon and would be forced to leave him behind, and that it would be wrong for him to love any one human more than the rest.

But then Judas had looked at him, sitting by his side, and Jesus had realized that it was far, far too late for that. His love for Judas was already as great as the sun, as deep as the oceans. It did not matter what he did, his heart had been given to another.

"Judas," He'd whispered, looking down at his best friend's lips.

"My lord?" Judas had replied, blinking at him.

Jesus had breathed out, and then surged forward and kissed him.

When he called to Judas, Judas always answered.

*

He spends the next week waiting patiently for Lisa to organized another party. Well. Not very patiently, but he manages to keep himself from bouncing off the walls. He spends a lot of his time on his phone with his parents, using their love and affection to calm himself down.

That Tuesday, he gets a message on Facebook, inviting him to a party on Saturday at Maggie's place. He stares at it for a moment, then falls on to his knees and breathes out.

Suddenly, he's not sure he can handle doing this. It had hurt so much, not to recognized by the person he loves most in the world. What if this doesn’t work? What if Judas doesn’t want him this time, not as a lover or even as a friend? What if he has someone else?

"Then you'll be happy for him," Jesus tells himself sternly. "If he's content, if he has a good life, you'll be happy for him. It will be worth all the pain of not being able to hold him, if you knew he was happy."

And it would, it really would. Being able to see Judas laugh and smile, even from afar, would nearly break his heart from pleasure. But that's not what he fears. What he fears is that Judas will need him, will be broken and hurt, but still won't want him.

Will refuse to be helped.

*

The party is loud and boisterous. Usually Jesus is not a fan of these events. It's too hard to think with all the noise, and there are too many people trying to worm their way into his…. Lap, usually.

But this party is different from the moment he walks in. Not that it's any less loud, but the moment he walks in none of the dancing and laughing drunk people matter. Because there he is, standing on top of a table, exactly like Maggie had said he would be. He's got a bottle of beer in one hand, and is using his other to wave dramatically in the air.

"And do you really think you can change anything about the current system from within said system? Don't be a fucking idiot! Democrat or Republican, they're exactly the same-"

"Exactly the same?" Jesus turns to see another man standing in front of Judas. "Are you serious? You're gay! You can get married becau-"

"Well, I'm not talking about gay rights, am I?" Judas demands. He's so beautiful, with fire in his eyes and tension in his muscles. "I'm talking about economics. And both parties are in the pockets of big banks and big pharma. So you can keep voting for the Dems, and see how that works for you ten years from now when you're drowning in student debt-"

"Oh fuck, stop it, both of you!"

"Shut up, Lisa!" Judas snaps. "This is important!"

"No one is saying it isn't, but we're here to drink!" Lisa yells back, and the crowd whoops in response. But Jesus knows that Judas isn't here for that, not really. He's here to try and convince people to believe in his version of the world. He probably would not be able to let himself drink with no ulterior motive.

"Get down, Jud," The man Judas had been arguing with grins and walks forward. He grabs the beer bottle from Judas and raises his hand to Jesus's lover. _Former_ lover-

No. he can't think of him like that. It hurts far too much.

"We're not done, though," Judas grins, accepting the hand.

"You're about to collapse, you're fucking pissed," The other man says, and pulls Judas down. Jesus watches, his heart clenching, as the man places his hand on Judas's shoulder and squeezes. His touch is comfortable and familiar-

But then Judas smacks him on the back of the head and pushes away.

"Stop," Judas mumbles, swaying on his feet. He turns, stumbles, and falls straight into Jesus's arms.

Oh. Oh. Judas's body in his arms, his breath on his neck, his arms around him. He fits there so perfectly, as if he'd never left, and Jesus places his arms around Judas's waist, pulling him closer, unable to resist.

It doesn’t seem to matter, Judas is suddenly so wobbly on his feet and unclear in his head, isn't aware of how odd it is that this unfamiliar man is holding on to him as if-well, as if he's a long-lost lover.

"Oh, Judas…" Maggie groans, and Jesus looks up to see her rolling her eyes. "Come on, Dave, let's get him to my room. He needs to lay down."

Yes, he does.

*

That first night, when he'd first slept with Judas, Jesus's fingers had shaken while he tried to untie the strings on Judas's shirt. Judas had grabbed his wrists and pulled them away, gently.

"Calm, my Lord."

"Judas…"

"Yes?"

Jesus had licked his lips, "I don't…I do not know what to do."

Judas had grinned, and oh, he had been so beautiful. Like an angel in the moonlight. He had ducked down and kissed Jesus, softly, cupping his cheek with his hand. Their noses had rubbed together, and Judas had said into his lips, "It's not a performance. You have nothing to prove to me, my Lord."

So Jesus had laid calmly on the ground, allowing Judas to show him how to be a man of the world.

*

Judas lays on the bed, his coffee-colored skin standing out against Maggie's pink sheets. His eyes are wide open, blinking owlishly at Jesus. He's frowning, as if trying to understand something.

Something he is completely incapable of understanding.

"I know you," Judas mumbles, and Jesus closes his eyes for a moment, leaning against the wall. He has to tell himself that Judas means that he remembers him from the Starbucks. He doesn't know him the way Jesus knows him. That's what he had wanted, wasn't it? A chance to do it all over again? "Do I know you?"

"We met," Jesus replies. He closes the door, not wanting to hear the sounds of the party, and sits down on the edge of the bed, next to Judas.

"I think I know you," Judas groans, crawling on the bed so his head is next to Jesus's hip. "Do you have a bucket, man?"

"No-"

Judas throws up in his lap. Jesus can't find it in him to care.

*

Judas had cried when he hung himself. Jesus knows because when he found him he could still see the trail the tears had took on his cheeks. He'd cradled him in his arms, wept and buried his head into Judas's locks.

"Why did you do it?" He'd screamed. "Why couldn't you wait for me to come for you?"

Behind him, he'd heard Mary hold back a sob, and Peter hush her.

He'd screamed, screamed so loud he was sure his Father could hear.

"Please, please," He'd sobbed. "Bring him back, bring him back. Let me bring him back!"

Judas's body had lain still in his arms.

"You let me bring back Lazarus, why not him? You brought me back. Is he not worthy? Is he not worthy?!"

But of course he'd received no answer. Because Judas was _not_ worthy in his Father's eyes. He was unworthy of love, unworthy of compassion.

It was only in his second life that Jesus begun to wonder if what made Judas unworthy was the fact that he had taken Jesus's innocence.

*

"You should come," Judas says, handing Jesus a flyer. It's a few days after the party, and Jesus is walking towards a classroom when he sees Judas and his group of friends.

Jesus looks down at the piece of paper in his hand. It's for a protest against a professor of medicine that teaches at their university. According to the flyer, she made a bunch of comments her students considered racist (and Jesus has to agree that some of them, written in bold letters on the flyer, are…questionable to say the least).

"I'll come," He promises, and Judas's grin lights him up.

Judas is electric in the protest, with a megaphone in one hand and fire in his eyes. He doesn’t look at Jesus once, there are too many people around. And they all clamor around him, to soak in some of his strength.

Jesus wonders if this is what Judas had felt, all those times when he watched Jesus give his sermons. If he felt the same bitter jealousy coarse through his veins, if he too had wanted to scream, _look at me, I'm right here! Don't you know they don’t love you like I do?_

He allows himself to surrender to the feeling for a few moments, so he can know what it's like, so he can understand his lover more, but then forces himself to let go of it. He doesn't want to become bitter and angry and hateful. Seeing Judas shine so bright is beautiful, and once he reminds himself he of that, there is no more sadness in his soul.

Jesus stays until the very end of the protest, when the only people left are Judas, two of his friends and Jesus himself.

"Well! This was fucking great!" Judas has been screaming into a megaphone and stumping back and forth for five hours straight, without stopping. His face is pale and covered in sweat, and Jesus wants to take him into his arms, tell him that it was all right, he could rest. That he'd done so well, he was so _good_ , he could rest. But Judas didn't know him, wouldn't accept reassurance from him.

Had barely accepted it when they _did_ know one another.

*

"We must bury him," Jesus had said, after what felt like years of crying into Judas's hair. He'd looked up, to see Mary and Simon both looking down at him. Mary with pity and sorrow, Simon with anger and sorrow. They had both loved Judas, he knew. Not as he did, but still. The betrayal had hurt them terribly. "We need to bury him with his parents."

Simon had turned away, "We can’t. He took his own life. We cannot bury him in a cemetery. You know that."

"No," Jesus had shaken his head. "That's wrong-"

"It's the Law," Simon had gritted out. "Your Father's Law."

"Well it's wrong!" Jesus had screamed, and suddenly the air seemed to grow cold, the sun disappeared, and he could feel a breath of freezing air on his neck as though his Father was right there. But when he looked up at Simon and Mary, neither of them seemed to realize anything was different.

Mary had looked shook, though it was clearly because of his screams. Simon had just looked furious.

"We can't leave him here," Jesus had insisted. "I can't. I won't."

They'd helped him, because he was the Son of God and they had to do what he said, even if they didn’t understand.

*

"Judas," Jesus says, a few weeks later at another protest. This one involves sleeping in tents outside of a women's shelter that's about to be foreclosed because they couldn’t pay their bills. "An unusual name."

Judas snorts, curling deeper into his sleeping bag, "My parents were unusual people. My sister was called Lilith."

_Were….Was…._

Oh.

Judas's family had been dead when Jesus had met him last time, as well.

"My sister is also dead," Jesus blurts out, because apparently his mind decided to stop working. "Her name was Mara."

Judas freezes, then turns away from Jesus. He looks at the flaps of their tent, swallows and says, "How?"

"She was murdered."

"Fuck," Judas rubs his face.

"Yours?"

"There was…a car crash," Judas mumbles, and he suddenly looks _ashamed_. "They all died. I was fifteen. She was twelve."

"I was eight, she was also twelve."

"Bad age to die, huh."

Jesus wants to ask where the shame comes from, wants to know how Judas could have possibly come to the conclusion that his family's demise was somehow on his conscious. Instead he moves closer to Judas and says, "Yeah. I'm not sure there's a good age, you know. When you're a child."

"Probably not," Judas breathes out. "But I wish she'd been younger. She was the only one that didn't die on impact. She lived a few minutes. I crawled to her, she looked at me and she knew she was dying. I could tell. If she had been younger, maybe she wouldn't have realized."

His voice breaks, and Jesus can't take it anymore. He pulls Judas into his arms, holds him close. For a moment Judas goes rigid, but then he collapses against Jesus.

"I feel like I know you," He says, crying and confused. "I feel like I've known you my whole life."

"And beyond," Jesus whispers. "Everything will be all right, my love. I'm right here."

But it's not enough, and he knows it isn't.

*

He doesn't know if Judas remembers their conversation, later. Either way, he doesn’t talk about it.

*

It doesn’t feel like lying, not telling people about his old life. When he talks to his mother and she calls him David, it doesn’t feel like lying not to say, _no, that's not my name_. It's is name now. She's his mother now. His life before is so disconnected from his life now as to be meaningless.

But it does feel like lying when it comes to Judas. When he tells him about his childhood, when they trade stories about silly little things their sisters did or about their favorite games as children, it feels like a lie not to stop him and say, _when I was that age, I was learning to make a chair out of wood. When I was that age, I was preparing myself for my death._

Everything feels more real when Judas is there. All the pain of his old life, all the fear that came from living thirty-three years in preparation for a horrific death. Every time they talk and Jesus doesn't tell him about it, doesn’t confess that he is someone else, it feels like a betrayal. Like he's betraying Judas with his silence.

*

"Sit down, Judas," Jesus says softly, watching his friend stomp up and down the dorm room. We came back to Jesus's room after the stand-off at the women's shelter ends. Judas hadn't slept through the night, and it's five in the evening. Judas has been awake for at least twenty-seven hours. "You need to rest-"

"I'm fine," Judas snaps. He turns again, stomps to the side of the room where Jesus is, and then suddenly hits the chair. "Fuck!"

"Judas…" Jesus understands his anger. He had been angry as well, when the bulldozer had brought down the shelter. Judas's friends had had to pull him away to make sure he didn't accidently get run over. Jesus had stood in front of them, hand on Judas's chest, trying to calm him with his eyes. "I know it's hard. But we did everything we could do."

"If we had, then the shelter would still be there!"

"No, that's not true," Jesus snaps, furious and afraid. "You can't fix everything; you can't save everyone!"

"Yes, I can-"

"No!" Jesus grabs his wrists, pulling him to stand in front of him. "You can't. You can't, Judas. And you'll just destroy yourself if you try."

Judas's hands are shivering in Jesus's hold, and he's blinking harsh, trying to stop himself from crying.

"Please," Jesus whispers, caressing Judas's arms and bringing him forward. "Come lay down."

"But-"

"There's nothing you can do right now," Jesus draws Judas down, until he straddles his lap. Judas curls into him, and Jesus lets go of Judas's wrists. Immediately, Judas wraps his arms around Jesus's waist, burrowing his face in Jesus's chest. "And if you collapse you won't be able to ever help anyone."

"I can't rest," Judas mumbles, and Jesus breathes out, feeling his body relax from the proximity from his friend. "I haven't done enough."

"You have. You have."

You're _worthy_ of it.

*

He wonders, often, if he could have brought Judas back. If, when he found Judas hanging from the tree, he should have told his Father _: bring him back or I won't do it. Bring him back or I won't be the mouthpiece you need me to be. Bring him back or I'll go back to my tomb and lay there for the next thirty-seven days._

It's a silly thought, the idea that he had any bargaining power. That his Father wouldn't have just taken over his body, moved him like a sock puppet. But then again-who truly knows? His Father has always relied on the cooperation of his human vessels. Moses had not wanted to be leader, but he'd agreed in the end. Elijah had forced his Father to put a drought on the land for years. Saul had hid when he was about to be introduced to the masses, but had come out.

No. It's not a silly thought because of that. His Father may have even given him Judas if he'd been stubborn enough. It's a silly thought because Jesus would never have done that, it would never have even occurred to him. He was a good son. He obeyed his Father's every whim and wish.

Not this time, though. He has a new father now, a new mother, and they've taught him to stand up for what he wishes for. If God tries to take Judas away from him again, he will not allow it.

This time, he will fight for the man he loves.

Not that he needs to, he's been promised Judas and his Father keeps his promises. Still. It makes him feel good, knowing that he would fight if the need arose.

*

"He cries sometimes, in the middle of the night," One of Judas's friends tells him

Jesus swallows, "Why are you telling me that?"

"You seem to care about him. He seems to care about you."

Does he? It's hard to tell. Judas right now is a bit like the ocean waves- coming close and then retreating again, never staying in place. There are moments when Jesus thinks he's about to kiss him, when he huddles into his hold and seems to find solace there. But then there are times when he pushes Jesus away, sometimes even physically. He growls at him, he snaps. He says things to hurt and walks away.

"Do you know… why he does that?" Jesus asks. "Is it…Is it because of his family? Their death?"

"Maybe? I don't know. I don't think so. He doesn’t like to talk about his nightmares. But he told me once that he can hear someone screaming. Someone being tortured."

Jesus shivers.

"You should ask him about it."

*

"I don't know," Judas tells him, when they're drunk and laying on Jesus's bed. "It's the same dream every time. But…. It's nothing that I can remember. It's nothing that's ever happened to me. I've had the same drink since I was a child."

"What do you see?" Jesus whispers.

Judas shrugs, "I…I'm standing on a hill and I can hear someone far, far away. He's screaming, he's in so much pain. He's crying for his mother, and his father. He cries for me. He wants me to come to him, but I can’t."

"Do you know what happens to him?" It's his fault, his fault that Judas suffers at night. That even when he allows himself to sleep he cannot rest.

"They hurt him."

"Who?"

"They…the…" Judas shakes his head, and his eyes cloud over. "It's my fault."

"No-" Jesus pulls him over. "It's not your fault."

But Judas just shakes his head and cries.

*

Judas is beautiful always. He's beautiful when he sleeps, when he's drunk and bleary-eyed, when he's dirty and tired and hung over. He's beautiful when he smiles and when he's angry, when he laughs and when he screams. Judas is always the most beautiful thing to Jesus.

But he is the most beautiful when he's content. When he lays in a bed or sits by a window and smiles softly and doesn’t need to leave. When he doesn’t feel the need to do more, and for a second allows himself to believe that for now he has done enough, and for now he has earned a rest. He doesn’t get that way often, and Jesus tries to soak it up as much as he can when he has it.

Judas isn't content right now. He's sitting by a table in the library with a group of their friends working on flyers for yet another rally, his eyes red-rimmed and tired, the winter sun illuminating his face.

He isn't content, but he's so beautiful and close to peaceful that Jesus can't find it in him to care.

"I've been thinking," Judas says. His elbow keeping pumping into Jesus's arm where it lays on the table, and he doesn’t seem to notice. He's comfortable enough with Jesus that their skin touching doesn’t cause him alarm. "That I should drop out."

Jesus drops his pen.

"What."

Judas loves his studies. He's a political science and philosophy major (of course), and his eyes light up when he speaks about his classes. It's the one thing in his life that he spends any significant amount of time on that is unconnected to his activism.

But that seems to be the problem.

"Think about all the time I'll have for the sanctuary-" a sanctuary for teens who had to leave their homes because of homophobia. It's one of Judas's favorite projects, and Jesus doesn't want to ask why -"without my classes."

Jesus shakes his head, "But you love your studies."

"I don’t have time for them," Judas replies stubbornly. Jesus bites his lip, not knowing what the best way of dealing with this situation would be. He could try to convince Judas he deserves the studies, which he loves, but he's been trying that for months now and hasn't gotten anywhere. So it seems the only way to beat Judas is to find him on his level.

"But you need to learn politics to beat the politicians," Jesus replies.

Judas tilts his head, thinking, "Hmm. Good point."

Jesus had to stop himself from grinning in triumph.

*

Jesus's parents come to visit him a month before the end of term. It's an odd time, since Jesus is going to be home for vacation soon. But he's not going to complain about seeing them. They tell him they're coming a few days before, and he waits for them at the airport.

His mother grabs onto him and holds him tight. He breathes out, collapsing into her, and closes his eyes. He suddenly feels like a child again, safe in his mother's arms. And he understands why they came, despite how pointless it might seem for someone on the outside. His mother had just needed to hold him in her arms.

"I've missed you," He whispers, ignoring his father for a moment.

"I've missed you as well, honey," His mother kisses his cheek, cupping his face to look at him intently. "You look good, David."

"I feel good," Jesus says honestly. His mother grins, pleased, and releases him to greet his father.

He takes them to their hotel room, and his mother tells him and his father to go get a coffee so she can rest. Jesus takes his father to his favorite Starbucks, the one where he found Judas again. They sit by the window and his father looks at him intently.

"Your mother is right, you really do look good," His father says. "You look happy."

Jesus nods, "I am. I'm happy. I found what I was looking for."

And he is, he's happy. It's just that he's not complete quite yet.

*

He wonders if things would have been easier for his mother Mary if she'd had another son. another child. He thinks of his new mother, listens to her when she tells him about her book club on the phone, about all the fascinating cases she has (she's a lawyer), and wonders if she would have managed to pull herself back together if he hadn't had him, if Mara was the only child she had.

But he doesn’t actually know how Mary had dealt with his death, of course. He knew, once, when he was in Heaven, but he doesn’t now. He's forgotten.

Sometimes, when Jesus lays in his bed, right before he falls asleep, he wonders if it was selfish of him to come down here. He must have been with her, up in Heaven, mustn't he?

When he's fully awake, though, he knows that she would be quite upset with him if he made that argument to her. He knows she must be so pleased, watching him right now. She never had the chance to see him living his life just for the sake of living it.

She'd had to watch for thirty-three years as her son, the man she had birthed and raised, had prepared himself for his own death. He wonders if it's a comfort to her, watching him make art and do nothing more. He wonders if she wants more out of him. If she's like Judas, furious at him for spending his time doing things he enjoys instead of making the world better.

But he died for the world, doesn't he deserve to live in it this once?

*

When the end of term comes, Jesus takes Judas aside to ask what he's planning to do in the vacation. Judas stares at him blankly, and then says, "Staying here. I've got stuff to do."

Judas doesn't have a family to go back to. He stayed with his grandparents after his parents and sister died, but he doesn’t talk about them. Jesus doesn't ask. He knows that he lived in a shelter for teens who needed to leave their homes because of homophobia for a few months and well-he's not an idiot and this particular dot connection game was made for toddlers.

"Do you want to go home with me?" Jesus asks carefully. "It could be nice."

Judas bites his lip, and Jesus has to hold himself back from kissing him. It's too early for it, he knows.

"I need to-"

"You can take a break," Jesus doesn't need to know what Judas feels he needs to do. Jesus needs the break, with Judas, just the two of them, to convince Judas to stay in school. God, he sounds like an afterschool program. _Stay in school, Judas! It's good for you!_

But it is. It's good for him.

"It's only a few weeks. Please?"

 _For me?_ He doesn’t add that last part, but he hopes its clear in his tone. Getting Judas to do something is always so, so much easier when he knows he's helping someone.

Judas hesitates, and Jesus holds his breath. It feels as if the whole world is holding its breath with him.

"Ok."

*

The first time Jesus had slept with Judas, his lover had laid down and spread his legs. Jesus's eyes had widened and he'd shaken his head.

"What's wrong?" Judas had asked, puzzled and a bit worried. He's sat up, pushing on his arms, so he and Jesus's noses were inches away from one another. "If you don't want to do this-"

"I don't want to hurt you," Jesus had chocked up. He'd wondered if someone had hurt Judas, like this. Because it must be painful, having something inserted in there. And he already knew by then that Judas had done this with others.

But Judas had grinned and kissed Jesus softly, calming Jesus down with the taste of his tongue, and then he'd whispered, "You won't hurt me."

He hadn't that night. That had come later.

*

It happens the second night in Jesus's family home. In the middle of the night, Jesus is woken up to the sound of crying.

He's half asleep, unsure of where he is, what exactly is going on, but he doesn’t need to. Judas is crying, and there's only one thing to do. He crawls off his bed and into the mattress where Judas is supposed to be sleeping.

He's not sleeping, he's thrusting around, crying and shivering, arms flapping in the air. He's trying to escape, Jesus can tell-but he can't escape his own memories.

Memories that are buried so deep, deep down within him. Deep down where Jesus can't reach easily.

"Judas," Jesus cries out, grasping Judas by the shoulders and pushing until his friend is laying on his chest and he can hold him tightly. "Hush, my love. It's all right, I'm right here."

Judas hiccups, his pain tearing through Jesus. He wants to cry as well, wondering why he could not protect his lover from the demons in his mind. But Judas needs him to be strong right now, he doesn’t need his tears.

"Hush," He repeats. "Judas…"

"Yes," Judas whispers.

When Jesus calls, Judas answers.

Jesus closes his eyes, and kisses Judas's forehead. The gentle action makes Judas sob louder, but hold onto Jesus all the tighter. They lay in silence for what feels like hours, and then Judas starts talking.

"I've had them since I was a child. The nightmares, I mean. Since I can remember. They took me to doctors when I was a kid, but they could never figure out where the dreams came from."

Jesus holds on to him, and listens.

"We…we were on a road trip to see the Grand Canyon, when I was fifteen-"

Oh, God. Jesus takes a deep breath. No, not that, not that…

"-My mom was in the back with my sister, because Lilith wanted to sleep on her. So I sat in the front, and fell asleep. And then I had the nightmare."

"Judas…You don't have to tell-"

"Shut up," Judas snaps. "You know I do."

Jesus swallows. Yes, he does.

"I woke up and I'd kicked my dad in my sleep. He lost control of the steering wheel and slammed into a tree that then fell down and that's it-that's how my family died. Because of you-"

Jesus yelps in shock as suddenly Judas is out of his arms and looming over his form, pushing him on the mattress. They stare at each other, Judas's eyes full of fury and Jesus's, he knows, full of pain and despair.

"Yes," Jesus whispers, bringing his hand up to cup Judas's cheek. "I brought you that pain."

Judas shivers, "I dream of you. Why have I been dreaming of you my _whole life_?"

"Because you've known me my whole life."

"No, I haven't!"

"You knew me before."

"I didn't!"

"You know you do," Jesus snaps, pushing Judas away. And now their positions are reversed, and it's Jesus who looms over his lover. "You must remember."

"I don't want to," Judas shakes his head. "I don’t."

Jesus closes his eyes for a moment, "You're destroying yourself. You never rest, you never stop, you don't think you deserve anything!"

"I don't!" Judas screams, and Jesus hopes that his parents are still watching a movie in the basement. Because if they're in their room on this floor there is no way they will remain sleeping. "I don't deserve anything, I let you die!"

Jesus breathes out, falling down and away from his lover. They stare at each other, both breathing heavily, and Jesus watches as Judas's eyes change. Anger disappears, replaced by shock and then despair.

"Judas, no," Jesus scrambles forward, once more taking Judas into his arms. "It wasn't your fault. It had to happen-"

"I heard you," Judas weeps. "From far away, I heard you crying. They whipped you-"

"Shh…"

"They crucified you, they laughed."

"I know, I know…"

"I heard you crying for your mother. And for me. You wanted me to come save you, why? It was my fault you were there."

Jesus closes his eyes, "Because I love you."

Judas becomes rigid, and he blinks at Jesus.

"Love."

"Yes," Jesus replies, caressing Judas's cheek.

"Not loved."

Jesus shakes his head, "How could you even think I don't love you anymore? I'm here because of you. Because my father said I could have you back."

Judas wipes his eyes, trying to get a hold of himself. It doesn’t seem to work.

"Why?" He asks, sounding puzzled and so very young. "How could you still love me after what I did to you?"

"And you?" Jesus asks. "Do you still love me?"

Judas hesitates, and then nods, slowly. And there. He's finally complete again. They both are.

"Then how can you ask me if I love you?"

"Jesus?" Judas mumbles. "Jesus?"

"Yes," Jesus whispers, and kisses him.

No matter where, no matter when, if Judas calls him, Jesus will answer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little drabble because I'm bored and this show is so fun to write for...

"I've decided-"

Oh. No. Jesus gulps. Last time Judas had said those words, in that tone, Jesus had had to talk him down from dropping out of college. Again. It had been a terrible week. Involving a lot of screaming. And crying.

Which had been split quite evenly between them, with Jesus doing most of the crying and Judas doing most of the screaming. When it was Jesus's turn to scream, at the end of the week, Judas had frozen and looked so shook that Jesus had ran to him and hugged him. They'd held each other for a few long, tense moments and then Judas had mumbled, _you've never yelled at me like that_ , into Jesus's shirt.

That had ended the argument.

"-I'm going to switch majors."

Jesus blinks, "Oh."

His love grins from where his head is pillowed in Jesus's lap, "What did you think I was going to say?"

"That you were going to drop out," Jesus has yet to lie to Judas during this new life. He isn't going to start now.

Judas rolls his eyes, "Would that be so ba-"

"Don't start," Jesus warns, carding his fingers through Judas's hair. He's still keeping it shorter then it was in their first life, but it's a bit longer then it was when they met (this time. This was rather confusing at times). Jesus wonders sometimes what that means, if it even means anything. Had he had short hair for a reason, had he had long hair for a reason?

He had loved the long hair in their first life because it protected him from the sun, and he had short, buzzed hair in their second one because long hair reminded him of his nightmares.

Was something in the middle finding a compromise between the two? Was Jesus reading too much into unimportant things because he couldn't quite get over the fear of Judas being unhappy and wanting something that Jesus didn't know about, so he was forced to look for clues when non existed?

Yes. Probably.

"It would be," Jesus says softly. "And you know it. You deserve to study."

If he needs to, he'll start explaining again, slowly and carefully, that it matters because Judas loves his studies and Judas deserves to do things he enjoys just because he enjoys them even if nothing else is gained from it, and so on and so forth. He could recite the speech by heart by now. _Judas_ could probably recite the speech by heart by now.

Judas raises his hand to caress Jesus's cheek softly, lovingly, and he says, "All right. Don't freak. Not planning on dropping out."

"Then what are you planning on doing?" Jesus leans into the touch, eyes fluttering close.

"Changing to journalism," Judas replies. "I'm going to be a journalist."

Jesus grins and crawls down, so he's lying on the bed next to Judas. He likes that idea; he likes it quite a bit. Judas would make a wonderful journalist, with his dogged persistence and absolute despise of everything cruel and unfair.

"You're going to be the bane of every politician you cover," Jesus announces. It's better than trying to be a politician himself, which has been Judas's goal up until now. He knows that Judas would never be able to compromise his ideals, not even a tiny little bit, and unfortunately, he doesn’t think any politician can get very far in this country without doing that.

"I'll need to work for some independent news organization," Judas takes hold of Jesus's fingers and begins playing with them. Jesus closes his eyes, enjoying the moment. They're in his dorm room, alone, the sun shining down on them. This is why he loves this new life so, so much more then his first one. He doesn’t have to be afraid of being found with Judas. Their love making used to be quick, with Judas's hand on his mouth to keep him quiet (Judas never needed to be kept quiet, it came naturally for him, a habit ingrained from years having to keep quiet all those other times with all those other men, because of the way of the world…Jesus tries not to think about it. When he does, he cries, and that makes Judas sad).

They used to make love in moments of privacy between sermons and charity work, silently in Jesus's tents before Judas slipped out and returned to his own sleeping area before the apostles could find him missing. Not that they hadn't known-it was impossible to hide, really. Still. Judas had always left, Jesus had always asked him to with a look in his eyes.

It's only now that Jesus realizes that there had been a part of him, just a small part, that had been ashamed of them. Not of Judas-never of Judas. Nor of the fact that he was a man. Just because he was who he was, and loving anyone as passionately as he loved his darling Judas had felt like a betrayal of his father.

It had been yet another reason for Judas to doubt their love, yet another thing Jesus had to repent for. He didn't mind much; he would gladly spend a thousand lives making it up to Judas. It wasn't as if it was a hardship to make him feel loved.

"Can't work for any large corporation," Judas continues, forcing Jesus out of his thoughts.

He rolls his eyes fondly, "Of course. Can't help capitalism."

"Don't be ridiculous, what a silly thing to say."

"I thought-"

"Can't help _unfettered_ capitalism," Judas rolls his eyes, as if Jesus is being ridiculous and incredibly slow. And then he takes a deep breath and goes into a long, long speech about the difference between the two and how capitalism itself can be useful for a society, because after all you didn't want the state to have too much power, and it was really all about finding a balance…

He falls asleep listening to his lover, with a small smile on his mouth.


End file.
